As the last note
by LadyRavena
Summary: HBP Spoilers. A look at one character's perpective of the fateful night. Complete.


Disclaimer: JKR owns all below, and makes all the money. I merely dabble for my own amusement. And Hopefully yours as well. Review, please.

**As the last note…**

As the last note faded, his wings unfolded, caught the current and lifted him starward. His flight was silent; his heart still mourned for his friend's passing. His kind did not forget grief quickly; it would be many burnings before his heart would quiet, before the heart's song would end.

Tonight he took no joy in the flight, the feel of the wind in his feathers. The chill did not sting his eyes, or make his beak ache behind the joints. His body managed all the details of his travels while his mind replayed memories of a century.

No words were recorded, but he understood through other ways what was done. He remembered his friend was still young, restless and eager to go. He remembered him by the fire, warming flesh that even to his companion felt cold. He recalled the walks amongst the tall trees and cloistered halls, the journeys taken out and into danger. The firm hand, gentle eyes, prickly hair, soft voice.

His wings banked slowly, the stars receding over the light emerging in the east. Changing course, his wings took his over fields, valleys, glens, moors. They took him over recollections, moments lost to time, glances shared and memories shared.

Slowly, with precision, his wings took him toward the small village, still encased in the shadows before daybreak. Most often he would have come directly there, but like his friend's comrades, he too needed the time to sort and reflect, mourn and finally accept.

The dark streamlet, with fox incased in his den, gradually came into view, alongside the rows of human dwellings. Settling on the branches of the eldest tree, a towering oak, his wings folding of their own accord, he listened to the last of the night dwellers skitter home. Tilting his head, he heard the babble of the water, turned foul by the humans, the sighs of the branches. He listened for the sound he thought he would hear, and did.

He moved soundless down the branches, peering down at where the broken noise was coming from. They were muffled, by cloth and spell, but that did not stop him from knowing. He knew the man below him.

The man sat against the tree, facing the stream. His hood was pulled low over his face, blocking all sight. He was still, until another shudder shook his form. He did not react when his watcher climbed slowly down, or when he changed branches or trees. He did not lift his gaze from the water until the watcher was on the ground, settling wings back against his body.

Walking forward, he raised his head, tilting his beak back and forth to see the man clearly. The man watched warily, breath ragged. Hands pushed back the cowl, revealing blood-shot eyes and pale skin gleaming in the twilight.

The man mouthed his name, and his feathers rose at the depth of the man's sorrow. His own heart answered for a moment, but there was no song left in him now. His eyes met the man's as he stepped closer.

The eyes met, black on black. Knowledge to wisdom. Youth to elder. Harshness to kindness. Neither blinked, neither moved as the memory stirred in both.

A memory of fresh breezes, of mists departing. Of three standing on the lawn's wet expanse, looking eastward, looking up at the stars last glimmer. None speaking, but all being said. Light and darkness met and greeted, both welcome to this one time, neither winning, neither striking.

Young turns to elder, indecision masking his thoughts. He does not understand, this brilliant mind who craves knowledge. It is both their vices and their burdens. It is an incalculable strength, an unpardonable weakness. The young looks to the old to explain. To impart wisdom learned, reasons explained.

Youth is often disappointed in the answers given by experience; experience is sometimes impatient with youth's narrowness.

This time all are equal, all understand. _There will always be the dawn. Somewhere. It may not be for us to see it, but it is always there. With it lie all hopes and dreams. There will always be the dawn._

* * *

Finite. 


End file.
